


One shot is all I've got

by chajatta



Series: As a tree through the ages [1]
Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anxiety, Bullying, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, Mental Health Issues, References to Depression, past Javi/Miki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-14 16:44:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18056258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chajatta/pseuds/chajatta
Summary: Javi has never believed in fate. But chance, chance is a very different mistress. It feels like pure chance that Javi bumped into Brian today, perhaps the biggest and luckiest chance of Javi’s entire life to date.





	One shot is all I've got

**Author's Note:**

> This piece is a little look at Javi pre-Toronto, pre-Yuzu and pre-Brian. Obviously this is an AU (and fiction, come on), but whenever possible I'll be staying as close to real events as I can. We all know what Javi dealt with before he joined TCC and this fic addresses some of those same issues. There is no graphic or gratuitous detail, and all emotional abuse is mentioned or alluded to, rather than lived through in the present, but it is a very heavy theme throughout, so please heed the warnings before reading. 
> 
> As an aside, I know next to nothing about how university works in North America, so if anything seems wildly unlikely please assume I have taken artistic licence. Also, I'm sorry Rutgers. I'm sure you're lovely. 
> 
> Huge thanks to W, as always, for reading this over for me and helping to make it better <3
> 
> Work will be locked after five days.

Javi grabs onto the strap of his backpack, clutching it as he side steps away from an inevitable collision with a harried looking group of girls, coffees in hand and probably rushing to their next class. This is the busiest route across campus and normally Javi would have avoided it like the plague, but it’s also the quickest. After the day he’s had, all Javi wants to do is get back to his dorm room, lock the door behind him, and throw himself into bed. 

It had been tempting not to go to any of his classes today. Javi could so easily have ignored his alarm, rolled over, and pretended that the world outside his bedroom didn’t exist. It was such a close run thing, but in the end Javi had eventually dragged himself up, showered, and gone to uni. It doesn’t feel like much, and four, maybe five months ago Javi wouldn’t have viewed something as simple as getting out of bed as an achievement. But now, well. Now things are different. 

He’s proud of himself, but also bone deep exhausted, and ready to sequester himself away until tomorrow. Javi’s so lost in his own head, like he is so often lately, daydreaming about locking his door and burying his head under a pillow, that he doesn’t see the man approaching him until it’s too late.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, excuse me, I didn’t mean-“ Javi splutters, hands held palms out in front of him. The man he’d clattered into laughs and Javi breathes a sigh of relief. 

“Hey, it’s no trouble. Don’t worry.”

Javi inclines his head and draws his eyes up briefly from where they’d been glued to the ground and that’s when he sees who, exactly, this man is. This man who Javi had very nearly pushed into two lanes of oncoming traffic. 

“Brian Orser,” Javi breathes, practically reverent. 

Brian’s polite smile twitches, his eyebrows raising high up on his forehead. 

“Yes?” He tilts his head, looking at Javi a little more closely. Javi feels distinctly like he’s being sized up and he fights not to wilt like a dying sunflower beneath the scrutiny. “I’m sorry, do we know each other?”

The question isn’t unkind, but Javi still flushes with shame. 

“No! Well, no, not really, but I-“ Javi can feel himself starting to panic, his vision going fuzzy around the edges. How embarrassing. Here he is, with a once in a lifetime chance to talk to one of his academic heroes, and Javi can barely even manage to string a simple sentence together. He stops, takes a deep breath, feels the oxygen flow into his lungs, and when he looks up again Brian is still smiling at him. “I’m a physiology student here at Rutgers,” Javi finally chokes out. He wonders when that stopped being such a source of pride. “I came to the science conference yesterday. I- I thought your talk on kinesiology in relation to elite athletic injury prevention was really great. Well, amazing, actually.” Brian is grinning, broad and toothy, when Javi finally plucks up the courage to look at him again. Javi returns the smile, shy. “Sorry, I’m just- I’m a big fan.”

“Don’t apologise, please. I love hearing young people speak so passionately about science.” Brian considers him again and Javi fights to keep his head up, hold his gaze. “Listen, my flight back to Toronto isn’t until later this afternoon. I was going to try and find somewhere to get a decent cup of coffee, but if you’re free would you like to join me? Only if you’re not busy, of course. I wouldn’t want to impose.”

Javi is so preoccupied trying to pick his jaw up off the floor that it takes him a solid minute to realise Brian is still gazing patiently at him, waiting for a response. 

“I-“ Javi starts, then clamps his mouth shut. It’s an amazing opportunity, Javi knows, to engage with someone he’s respected since he was sixteen, to network and share his ideas. Moments like this are why Javi worked so hard at English, why he left Spain and came to America, to learn from the best in the world. But it feels like such a waste of Brian’s time. He’s at the top of his field, the head of science at the internationally acclaimed University of Toronto, and Javi is- well. Javi is a struggling first year. He’s passionate, sure, but his grades are average at best and he can’t even get off the bench for the university hockey team. Christ, he hadn’t even _made_ the bench for their last game against Syracuse and if that hadn’t been slap in the face enough, the subsequent email from the Rutgers finance department detailing how much game time he needed to maintain his scholarship, versus how much he was actually getting, certainly did the job.

Compared to someone like Brian Orser, Javi is just a nobody who probably never should have left Madrid. Where does he get off, thinking that it’s acceptable for him to impose on someone like _Brian Orser_?

Except. 

Except Brian, for all that they’ve only been stood here on this bleak, grey New Jersey street for about five minutes, has been kinder to him in this short time than almost anyone in the entire six months that Javi has been in the States. Coach Morozov would certainly never have invited him out for a coffee, even before that whole fiasco with Miki had turned his passive ignorance of Javi into burning, furious hatred. At the thought of his coach, Javi forces his back straight and heaves in a deep breath. 

“Yeah, okay. I’d really like that,” Javi finally responds, pleased that he manages to keep his voice somewhat level. “But only if you’re sure you don’t mind. You must have more important things to do.”

Brian laughs and Javi can see how his eyes soften. 

“Not at all. You probably know all the good places, anyway.”

“Well,” Javi rubs the back of his neck. “There’s a place that I like right here on campus, it’s only maybe five minutes away.”

“Sure, lead the way-“ Brian pauses and Javi braces himself, sure that Brian must have just realised that he has much better things to do than go for coffee with a student, and not even one from his own university. “I’m sorry, you never told me your name.”

 _Oh_. “Oh! Javier. I’m Javier.” On some kind of mad, blind impulse Javi thrusts his hand out and it lingers in the space between their bodies for a painful moment. But then Brian reaches out and clasps it, his grasp strong and warm. Javi has to fight not to melt down into a puddle on the side of the road, slip down into the gutter like goo. “But just Javi is okay.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Javi.” Brian takes his hand back and gestures for Javi to lead on. 

Javi leads Brian to a small cafe on campus, tucked in a corner by one of the Humanities buildings, clammy hands fisted into his pockets. It’s ridiculous, Javi thinks, how anxious he is. He never used to be like this, back in Spain. Javi had explained away the mood swings and chronic sleeplessness as home sickness, at first, the stress of being so far away from everything he’d ever known. But three months in, four, and they still hadn’t stopped. If anything they’d gotten worse, more intense. 

Javi knows his coaching situation hasn’t helped, either. Morozov is a hard man, Javi had known that when he sent off his application. The university forums Javi had scoured while waiting for a reply had been full of people sharing their stories about him, the awful things he’d done, but Javi had naively chosen not to heed them. He was a good hockey player, maybe even a great one. They wouldn’t have offered him a scholarship if he wasn’t, so what did he have to worry about? 

At first there hadn’t been anything. Javi had skirted under Morozov’s radar, initially, and that had been fine. A little disappointing, that he hadn’t been deemed good enough for his coach to bother learning his name, but fine. Javi had four years ahead of him, time was on his side. But then Javi had started seeing Miki, a pretty second year student on the Ladies’ team, and he’d had been thrust, unwilling, into the spotlight. 

It had started small, at first. The bullying. Knocking Javi’s water bottle over in the changing rooms, forgetting to email him the changed practice schedule. Everyone knew Morozov harboured grossly inappropriate feelings towards lots of the girls on the Ladies’ team and Miki had always been one of his unfortunate favourites. When Javi had refused to break up with her things had escalated. Morozov would draw Javi out of the group during training and force him into impossibly difficult exercises, making an example of him. 

“Report him,” Miki had hissed at him after one particularly bad practice, but Javi had just shook his head, stubborn and too proud. Morozov had strapped a pole behind his arms and given Javi some intricate step-work to do, under the guise of improving his balance and core strength, but Javi had been on the floor after a couple of hesitant, shaky crossovers. Without his hands to break his fall, Javi had landed face first on the ice but the burning fire of humiliation had been worse, somehow, as he lay there, utterly helpless and unable to get up, than the pain of his split lip. 

He and Miki hadn’t lasted long, after that. She hadn’t been able to stand watching him get hurt and Javi, so trapped in the dark corners of his own mind, struggling every day just to get out of bed and go to class, to turn up for training, hadn’t been able to muster the energy to stop her. 

“Javi?”

Javi physically jerks out of his funk and he stares, wide eyed, at Brian. They’re stood at the counter, the barista staring at him expectantly with an unamused slant to his mouth. Javi blanches. 

“Sorry, sorry. A latte, please. Two shots.” 

Javi fumbles for his backpack, to get his wallet out and pay, but Brian waves him away. “I’ll get these. Why don’t you go and find us a seat?” Javi tries to protest, fingers of one hand curled white knuckled around his bag strap, but Brian just shoos him off. Defeated, Javi offers his thanks and flees. 

Once he finds them two comfy seats by the window, Javi drops his bag at his feet and collapses down. All of the air rushes out of his lungs and Javi covers his face, feels his cheeks burning beneath his palms. _Pull yourself together, you moron_ , Javi’s inner consciousness snaps, and Javi is trying, god is he trying. It feels like all he’s done since he arrived in America is try to control his emotions, his mind, to remember who it is he’s supposed to be, what it was like to be happy. But it’s exhausting, being like this, tired and on edge all the time, unable to go anywhere or talk to anyone without breaking out into a cold sweat, feeling like his tongue is two sizes too big for his own mouth. 

“Here,” Javi hears Brian say. There’s a clunk on the table and when Javi peeks out from behind his hands there’s his latte and a large, cold glass of water in front of him. Javi smiles weakly and reaches for the water. The glass is wet with condensation but it’s cool on his palms, soothing, and Javi feels a scrap of tension drain out of him as he lifts it to his mouth and takes a long gulp. 

“Thank you.”

Brian says nothing as he slides into his seat and Javi is grateful for the reprieve that Brian has offered him, the chance to collect himself for just a moment. He places the water back on the table and touches his now damp hands to his cheeks. 

“I’m sorry,” Javi finally says. Brian looks up at him, his gaze soft, mouth parted like he’s about to speak, but Javi ploughs on. “I just- I’m not- I’m going through a bit of a rough time, at the minute. I’m usually not such a mess.” Javi isn’t sure where he gets the courage to say that, to open up to a virtual stranger, when he can’t even tell his own parents, when they call, what a shit state his life is in. But there’s something liberating about it, something easy about talking to Brian, that makes Javi want to open his heart and spill the entire contents all over the table between them. 

“Hey, now. You’re not a mess.” Brian’s voice is light and soothing, his accent lilting in a way that Javi isn’t familiar with. Javi can’t hear any pity in it, though, and he’s grateful for that small mercy. Pity is the last thing he wants. “It’s just like you said, you’re going through a rough patch. We’ve all been there.”

“I suppose, yeah,” Javi says. He lays his hands flat on the table, one on top of the other, and fights not to fidget, to wring them together. “But still, you shouldn’t have to listen to me complaining. That’s not what you came here for.”

“Well, no, that’s true,” Brian muses. “I’m happy to let you bend my ear, though, if you want. Bottling up your feelings never does anyone any good. But hey, if it’s none of my business we can talk about something else, if you like.” He reaches out for his coffee. “I see you’re wearing a varsity hoodie. You play hockey?”

Javi’s fingers twitch. Brian doesn’t know, because of course he doesn’t, he _couldn’t_ , but he’s trying, being kind, and so Javi smiles tightly and nods. “Yeah. Yeah, hockey is why I’m here, actually. Ice sports aren’t very popular back in Spain, so there weren’t really any opportunities to play as more than just a hobby.” 

“So you followed your passion all the way out here? That’s incredible. Good for you.” Javi flushes. It’s been a long time since anyone complimented him like that and he lowers his gaze as Brian continues. “I never really played hockey much, but I did used to figure skate as a kid.” Javi’s head snaps back up and he goggles at Brian. “What? I’m Canadian, I had to do one of them.” They both laugh, then, easy and companionable. Javi lowers his eyes back down to his hands as he takes hold of his coffee, the mug still scalding hot against his palms. 

“That’s the problem, really. Well, part of it. Hockey. I-“ When Javi chances a glance up, Brian’s face is open but his eyes are sharp, watching. Javi swallows hard. “My coaching situation isn’t ideal.” Javi hesitates again. He doesn’t want to badmouth a teacher in front of Brian, doesn’t want Brian to think that he’s some kind of gossiping snitch, but god he wants to talk about it. Javi wants to talk about it so badly that he can only barely stop the words tumbling, one after the other, out of his mouth. But Brian doesn’t say anything, his expression barely even shifting. He just makes a soft, sympathetic little sound, and so Javi continues. 

“I know I’m not as naturally talented as most of the other guys on the team. I know trying to skate in a country that only cares about football has put me at a disadvantage, but I’m _good_. I know I’m good. But I’m not getting any game time and without it I’m never going to get any better. ” Javi takes a deep, steadying breath. He doesn’t dare look at Brian. “My coach and I, we- we don’t really get on.” Javi can feel his voice shaking and he hates it, hates the hold that Morozov has over him. It makes Javi feel weak, powerless. “He’s not really- I mean, he isn’t-“ _Just say it. Say it. He’s a rat bastard, an awful, horrible, emotionally abusive predator._ “He’s not a very nice man. Normally it’s just, you know, if you don’t get on it’s okay, but you’re still professional, right? But it’s- it’s affecting my grades. I can’t sleep, I can’t-“ Javi’s voice is trembling so badly it’s on the verge of cracking and he does stop, this time. He reaches out for his water, twisting the glass in his hands before taking a long, steadying gulp. “He’s making me miserable and he knows there’s nothing I can do, because I’m here on a scholarship and if I drop out of the team they’ll take it away. But if I stay on the team but I’m not playing they’ll take it away anyway and I’ll still have to go back to Spain. I don’t know what to do.”

Javi feels wrung dry by the time he finishes. He’s never opened up about his situation like that to anyone, not to his parents, or his sister, not even to Miki. It’s terrifying and liberating all at once, and Javi’s hands are shaking by the time he releases the iron grip he’d had on his water. 

Silence stretches between them for long enough that Javi can feel his stomach starting to churn. He shouldn’t have said anything. He should have just taken his chance to chat with Brian about his presentation yesterday, like any normal person would have, instead of whining about how horrible his coach is like a stupid kid, god Brian must think-

“That’s rough.” Brian says and he sounds so genuine, like he actually _cares_. Maybe it’s just Javi, maybe he really is that lonely and depressed and starved for a grown up to tell him that everything will be okay, but Brian sounds like he really does give a shit about Javi’s suffering. 

“Listen, for what it’s worth, and granted I haven’t known you for long, but you seem like a very decent, very smart young man, with a good head on your shoulders. I know you’re having a difficult time right now, but you should remember that,” Brian says. He smiles and Javi’s heart feels like it’s about to burst out of his chest, smash past his lungs and right through his ribcage. “Now, while it’s admirable that you’re putting in the work to try and get to where you want to be, I do think it’s important for you to realise that there are always other options. Other courses, other universities.”

“You think I should drop out?” Javi gapes, too stunned to even think before the words are escaping from his mouth. “Go somewhere else?”

Brian holds his hands out between them, palms facing towards Javi. “I’m just giving my advice based on impartiality but also a very limited knowledge of the situation. It’d be a big change, deciding to leave and go somewhere else. You should sit down and have a think, weigh out all of your options, but if you decide Rutgers isn’t the right fit for you and there’s nothing that can be changed to make you happier, I think it would be a real shame for you not to at least consider trying another university.”

Leave Rutgers, leave New Jersey? The sudden thought of it makes Javi’s breath catch in his chest. There had been other universities when he’d been been sending off applications, some that had even offered him a place, a scholarship. Rutgers had been the best of his offers, on paper, but maybe. _Maybe._

“Maybe you’re right, maybe I should. But-“ As soon as the thought enters his head, his mind quickly extinguishes it. Javi feels his shoulders slump. “Won’t most of the spaces be full by now, if I wanted to get onto a good programme?”

Brian shrugs. “Sure, maybe. But most of them will be conditional. You likely already meet the entry requirements of any course you’d be interested in enrolling yourself onto, or Rutgers wouldn’t have accepted you in the first place. You’re clever, you give off a very good first account of yourself.” Javi chokes and Brian pauses to smile at him, the quirk of his lips wry and amused. “Any university would be lucky to have you.” 

Javi feels like his head in spinning, his brain tumbling around on a wash cycle, bashing against the insides of his skull. He’s glad he’s sitting down because this is a lot to take in, Brian single handedly dismantling his entire future like it’s nothing. 

“Look. I don’t want you to think I’m pressuring you, or trying to unduly influence you, or anything like that, but here.” Javi watches as Brian reaches inside his jacket and pulls out a business card. He offers it out and Javi reaches to take it. His hands are shaking so badly Javi can hardly read it. “If you decide you want to leave, _if,_ and only if you think it’s the right thing for you to do, my email address is on there. Drop me a line and I can look over your application, write you a reference, if you’d like.”

Hot, salty tears well up in his eyes, blurring his vision. Javi blinks stubbornly. “Why are you being so nice to me?” Javi asks, his voice stretched thin and quavering. 

“Because,” Brian starts, “you’re obviously a good kid who just needs a bit of a helping hand to figure things out. You’re far away from home, away from everything you know, and it must be really hard. Now, I don’t have any children, but I know if I did and they were in your position, I’d feel a lot better knowing somebody was showing them a bit of kindness.” Brian hesitates and Javi watches, sniffling, as he purses his lips. “Besides, I know what it’s like to be young and scared, to not know who you can turn to. But you’re never alone, you know?”

Javi doesn’t trust himself to speak and so he doesn’t. Instead the two of them sit there in silence, Javi trying desperately to steady his breathing, to stop any more tears from spilling down over his cheeks. The two that do escape roll, fat and salty, down over his lips, and Javi lifts his free hand to wipe them away onto the cuff of his hoodie. Brian says nothing, just sips on his coffee as he allows Javi all the time he needs to pull himself together. He feels ridiculous, pathetic, but this simple kindness from Brian is so _much_ and Javi is going to need more than just a few minutes to recover from it. 

When he finally feels ready, Javi clears his throat, licks his lips, and asks, “Have you ever been to Spain?” He isn’t sure where it came from, and it wasn’t what he intended to ask, but it’s what comes out all the same. Brian shakes his head and Javi smiles, broad and genuine. He fingers the edges of Brian’s business card, his grip so tight the paper is crumpling. “If you ever get the chance, you should visit. Where I’m from, in Madrid, we have so many parks and green places, but my favourite is La Quinta de Los Molinos, It’s so quiet and peaceful, and if you visit when the almond trees are in bloom, there’s this sweet smell and pink flowers as far as you can see. My sister used to take me there every spring, when we were kids.” 

Javi has never believed in fate. But chance, chance is a very different mistress. It feels like pure chance that Javi bumped into Brian today, perhaps the biggest and luckiest chance of Javi’s entire life to date. Leaving home and coming to America, and everything that came along with that, has been a challenge beyond Javi’s wildest dreams, but today it feels like life has handed him a chance, one that Javi is determined to grasp onto with both hands and never, ever let go.


End file.
